Birds of a Feather
by Savvy Sammy-13
Summary: Before Lily Gray met serial killer Joe Carrol, she was still on the search for her perfect mate. Of course she had certain specifications that her perfect mate had to meet. Not just anyone could fill that position in her life, and before Joe, Hannibal Lecter nearly filled her void. Rated T but will most likely change to M. Hannibal/Lily
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Thanks for checking this out. I hadn't written anything in a while, but I've been wanting too. I'm obsessed with Hannibal and have been, but The Following has recently become a new obsession. I just had to do a crossover. Let me know what you think. It starts out slow, but the pace will pick up. Let me know if you have any questions about the plot._

Hannibal Lecter raised his wine glass to his lips, but paused a brief moment to breathe in the tantalizing fragrance of the wine. His eyes fell back onto the painting in front of him. He'd made himself get out and go to this charity event. It had been the first "social event" that he had gone to since Will's arrest, except for the meetings with the FBI, when he consulted on crime scenes, or when he had his appointments with Bedelia. The times that he went in search of groceries could not be counted as getting away. He did not count it as that anyway. But being back in the atmosphere of rich aristocrats, well-mannered people, excellent art, and good music made him feel almost back to normal, though. He almost felt like Will was not in his cell, trying to toil through his own mind and prove that he was not the guilty one. It had been nearly a week now that Frederick Chilton had banned all of Will Graham's visitors except the few that were putting together his defense. Hannibal knew that Alana Bloom was probably still visiting too, but everyone, including Alana felt that it was best for Hannibal to stay away, especially with Will's fragile mind. Although Alana had explained that Will's unconsciousness would be his defense, Hannibal was still playing with other ideas in his head. He desperately wanted to feel close to Will again. He wanted their friendship to resume as if it had never left off.

Around him, light piano tones floated around the large gallery room, mixing with the hushed tones of everyone mingling around the exhibits. Every now and then, laughter and the clinking of wine glasses mixed in as well. The extra lighting around the paintings gave the room a warm feeling except for the few dark corners where no light could reach. In the corners a few couples stood, whispering among the shadows. Hannibal stood alone, taking his time as he studied each painting that he already knew well. He had not seen any one here that he recognized. None of the few people that he regularly saw at charity events here in Baltimore and sometimes invited over to his home, seemed to be present, but he did not mind. He used the time that he would normally be having pointless conversations to instead focus on the beauty of the paintings. His favorites were the original pieces. They were the ones that sat in the same places in the gallery. The new pieces, which he cared little about, were being auctioned off for the city's youth clubs. Those pieces gathered the most attention at the opposite end of the gallery room.

"I'm afraid that this particular painting is not for sale."

Hannibal turned from the dark painting, surprised at first that someone had approached him, but also surprised that someone thought he was confused about what was for sale. He met the eyes of the woman who had spoken to him. The blonde woman had curls that fell to her shoulders and she wore a sleek and modest red dress with a high neckline. She held her own wine glass in her right hand, dangling her left over it and dancing her fingers over the rim. There was a faint teasing smile on her lips, letting Hannibal know right away that she had spoken the words in a joking manner.

"But it is one of my very favorite pieces," She said before he could speak. She stepped up beside him, bringing her attention to the painting in front of them both.

Hannibal looked back to the painting as well and breathed in the new scent around him. Her perfume was not overpowering as many of the women who had passed by him already that night. But her perfume was very unique and not one that he could place in his mind. He tilted his chin a little, unnoticed by her, and took another whiff. It smelled a tad of citrus, but it also had a flowery aroma. It was very sweet. Sweet enough that Hannibal felt as though he could taste it. Perhaps she had it specially made? He would not put it past many of the women that he saw in places like this. Even if they perhaps could not afford it, many would have it specially made just so they could say they did.

In his mind, Hannibal acknowledged her simple yet exquisite jewelry, clutch, and heels. Her perfume seemed to fit her, simple yet pleasing to the senses. Just with her presence, she gave off a confidence.

"Francis Bacon always said that we were all potential carcasses," Hannibal spoke when he felt the silence between them was too heavy.

"You're familiar with him then, and his many meat carcass paintings," the woman stared back at the painting as if she were looking out of a window into a busy street. Hannibal watched her study every detail before taking another delicate sip of her wine. "And he himself said that the job of the artist was to deepen mysteries," she continued. "When some of us look at this we see a butcher shop but others see much much more."

Hannibal moistened his lips. "Yes, but many thought him mad," he said, stopping to glance back to her as he spoke.

She smiled back at him, tilting her head slightly in agreement.

"As you are, I'm quite familiar with Mr. Francis Bacon," Hannibal murmured back with a slight smile.

"I'm Lily Gray. I don't think that we've been introduced," the woman responded.

She held her poised hand out to him.

"Hannibal Lecter," he took her hand, leaning in to raise it to his lips politely. "Very nice to meet you."

Hannibal smiled back at her. He had seen her earlier strolling through the small crowds, obviously comfortable with the people around her, but she was not someone he recognized so he had not paid her much attention.

Lily smiled back at him as she retrieved her hand. "Do you find yourself at these charity events often?"

She talked smoothly and confidently, meeting his eyes with her intense green ones.

"Not as often as I would like. This one, however, was so near that I could not pass up the experience." he replied. "What about yourself?"

"Yes… it is mostly my job dealing in this sort of environment."

"Ah an artist?" Hannibal asked.

"Art dealer," she corrected him politely.

"But not an artist?"

"Nothing like this," she motioned back to the painting hanging before them on the wall. "The raw imagery of this is astounding. I could never accomplish this."

Hannibal watched her devour the painting with her eyes once again. He was perplexed that she found the subject matter as interesting as he did. The 1946 painting by Francis Bacon wasn't one that many people enjoyed. He had seen many look at it and crinkle their noses.

"But you…You're extremely successful aren't you? I've read some of your published work," Lily asked as she turned back to him.

Hannibal tilted his head in surprise, feeling his lips form into a slight, surprised smile. "You have?"

"An art dealer that delves in the psychiatric journals?" He slid his left hand into his front trouser pocket casually as he cleared his throat slightly.

Lily smiled. "It's something I enjoy reading for leisure."

"Ah. A little light reading of social exclusion before bed," he said lightly, raising his glass and taking a small sip.

"Yes. Exactly," Lily smiled, showing her perfect teeth.

Hannibal forced a short, polite laugh. "Well that is interesting."

"Not nearly as interesting as some of the art here. There are so many amazing pieces here…new and old," Lily changed the subject as she glanced around.

"I actually haven't made it over to the newer pieces," he said, taking a slight glance in the direction of them across the gallery room. "Do you have pieces there?"

Lily smiled slyly. "I have a few up for auction. I was asked to work on a few things to help raise the money. I couldn't pass it up. I've been so busy lately that I haven't been able to give back as much as I would like to."

"Nor have I," Hannibal swirled the wine in his wine glass as he spoke. "It has been a while since I've been a regular attendant of art shows. I've been rather busy over the past few months, but I must get back to doing so."

Hannibal's mind drifted back to Will for a brief moment, but he pushed the thoughts away, zoning in on the woman standing beside him again.

"Yes you should," Lily said quickly. "It's always nice when people show up to the events you've coordinated," she laughed and glanced down to her wine glass.

"What medium do you enjoy using yourself?" Hannibal asked as he glanced down to her slender fingers. As he did with everyone, he studied her physique to learn as much as possible. Her nails were covered with a clear polish that made them glisten beneath the exhibit lights, but she wore no wedding band.

"I like to paint," she met his eyes once again. "I sometimes get lost for hours in my studio without realizing that time has passed. Then I must remind myself of the real work that I must get done," she brushed a blonde wisp back behind her ear. "Do you paint or draw?"

Hannibal nodded. "I've done quite a lot of drawing in my time. I was given painting lessons by a family member, but it didn't stick as well as just picking up a pencil."

"Well I'd love to see some of your work," Lily smiled.

"And I would like to see yours as well. Perhaps I should go and view the newer pieces," Hannibal said finally after a few brief moments of silence.

"Oh yes please do so," Lily placed her hand on his forearm that was outstretched from holding his wine glass. It was a quick gesture; light, polite, but also confident. Her hand was gone as soon as it touched him, but he could not help but look down at the place she'd touched so gracefully.

"It was very nice to meet you, Hannibal, and I hope to see you at the next show. That reminds me," she glanced to the dainty bracelet watch at her wrist. "I've got an appointment that I must get too."

Hannibal nodded to her. "It was very nice to meet you too, Ms. Gray."

She smiled warmly, nodded, and then turned away, heading toward the direction of a nearby hallway. He watched her leave. A few people spoke to her as she passed and she greeted them all the same way, smiling, and offering them a brief embrace or a handshake.

Hannibal tilted his head back as he drank the last sip of his wine. Before moving to the other side of the gallery, he placed his empty glass on a tray that held other used glasses. Now he was curious of what the polite and attractive blonde had placed in the gallery. As he drifted through the crowd, making his way to the art pieces that were for sale, he casually glanced toward the hallway that Lily Gray had disappeared in. She'd caught his interest quickly and then disappeared as fast as she'd appeared. Hannibal smiled slightly at his own thoughts. It had been a while since he had gotten the chance to take a peek into a new person's life. Initial meetings were interesting to him. He enjoyed the first meetings with new patients because he enjoyed seeing people project a picture of themselves only to break down and show their true selves later. With someone like Lily Gray, someone who was not his patient but someone he probably would never see again, he would normally do a little investigating into their lives just to see what they were like. At the moment, viewing her art pieces seemed like the perfect next step. He needed to busy himself with someone else to keep himself out of his own head.

Hannibal stopped by the first few paintings and leaned in to examine them. Most of them were abstract, but he didn't look at them for long before he examined the plastic name plaques to determine who had made them. He searched for his new acquaintance's projects, excusing himself as he moved through the people who were also studying the new pieces. He didn't recognize any of the names of the people who hoped to sell their pieces, and it took several minutes for him to find what he was looking for. He eventually stopped in front of a name plaque that read:

"_Snow"_

_Lily Gray_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I'm sorry that it took so long for me to post another chapter. I wasn't sure if anyone was interested, but if anyone is, I will continued posting. Thanks for reading. Any feedback would be appreciated._

Lily Gray let herself into her apartment quietly. It was past midnight and the apartment was dark, but she could see a dim light from the hallway casting a glow on the hardwood floors. The light was coming from one of the bedrooms. She gently shut the door back behind her and laid her keys and purse on the countertop. It clinked quietly on the glass top. Lily clicked on a lamp and stopped to listen for any sign that the twins were awake. She smiled when she heard Luke laugh. She knew that it was him. He laughed differently than Mark did. There were so many differences in the boys, but not many people could see them. Lily guessed that it was that way with all twins. Someone just had to be around them enough to know them apart. Their voices were muffled, and Lily couldn't make out what they were laughing or talking about.

The two boys shared a room even when there was another available. Back in their actual home in New York, there were plenty of rooms; yet Luke and Mark would rather stay in the same room than in separate ones. They had always been close.

"Boys, I'm home," she called out as she slipped her sweater off of her shoulders and draped it on one of the bar stools.

As she expected, Luke and Mark practically raced from their room. Luke pulled Mark back by his shirt, and they laughed as they stumbled into the kitchen. She smiled and shook her head. They reminded her of five year olds—sweet, loyal, five year olds. It was too bad that they were growing up quickly. They were twenty now, and Lily was finding that it was much harder to keep a hold on them.

"What were you both doing?"

"Oh nothing," Mark answered first. He leaned in and hugged her.

Lily wrapped her arms around him and sighed. He smelled of soap, and she assumed he had just showered. She kissed his slightly damp head and he released her to move past her and get to the refrigerator.

Lily looked to Luke next. He propped himself coolly against the countertop with one elbow.

"Luke," Lily reached over and ruffled his dark hair playfully. "The both of you didn't break anything when I was gone, did you?"

"Of course not mother," Luke said sweetly. Then he smiled.

Lily watched Mark pour himself a glass of orange juice.

"How was your night?" Mark asked.

"It was very good. Oh and boys you will never guess who I bumped into at the museum," Lily brought the subject up as soon as she thought of it—and the man she'd met. She'd thought of Hannibal Lecter the rest of the night actually. She looked for him when she had a chance to return to the gallery, but he was no longer there. One of the guards told her that she had just missed him.

"Who?" Mark asked as he slipped into the bar stool next to her where she stood. His recently poured glass of orange juice was in his hand.

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He's successful, handsome-" She said the words teasingly and paused at the boys reactions. She knew that the boys were not oblivious to her attempts at finding someone for herself.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, and Luke applauded quietly but dramatically.

"Wow-" Luke began.

"He had something to do with Will Graham, didn't he?" Mark interrupted his brother.

"Yes, he was the psychiatrist of Will Graham, the Chesapeake Ripper. Will killed a lot of people. He has actually become more popular than that Joe Carrol, mom likes to talk about," Luke playfully bumped his brother's shoulder.

Lily cocked her head at Luke's words. Luke and Mark knew that Lily had had plans to try and meet Joe. They followed the investigations. She was attracted to him in ways that she barely understood. She didn't expect the boys to understand. She wanted to meet him—had to. She had even been concocting a plan and was planning on letting the twins in on it, but the whole boathouse explosion at Havenport had screwed that up. What the boys didn't know, however, was that Lily was seriously wondering if Joe was dead at all. It had been a month since he was confirmed dead by the FBI. She had finished mourning him. Now she was thinking.

"How do you two know so much about Will Graham? "I don't remember reading that or hearing it on the news. I didn't know Hannibal Lecter was his psychiatrist," she walked over to the refrigerator and opened it as she spoke. She pulled out the carton of orange juice and turned back to face the twins. The Chesapeake Ripper had been all over the news ever since Joe Carrol's supposed death.

Mark looked down to his glass, purposely avoiding her eyes.

"We visited Ben," Luke blurted out.

"Ben?" Lily demanded.

"And we've spoken to Will Graham, briefly," Luke cut in.

"Boys," Lily groaned.

"Will Graham's cell isn't far from Ben's," Mark explained quickly.

Lily shook her head as she poured herself a glass of juice.

"Boys, I thought I told you that we could not continue being friendly with Ben. You'll look suspicious if you keep visiting him."

"Mother, there is no connection with Ben and us," Luke leaned both of his elbows and forearms on the countertop.

"I know but you both disobeyed me," Lily said coldly.

Lily put the carton back and closed the refrigerator. She picked up her glass and turned back to face them.  
"You know, Will Graham swears that his psychiatrist is the Ripper," Luke added. His eyes gleamed in the lamplight. "And what are the odds that you would run into him."

Lily paused just before she touched the glass to her lips. "Dr. Lecter?"

She eyed Luke and then Mark.

"Frederick Chilton, the doctor and director of the Baltimore State Hospital has only about a hundred tapes of Graham saying so," Mark added.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" Lily murmured. "And how do you know?"

"I didn't know that you would wanna know," Mark answered. "And we didn't know if it was true. I mean Will Graham _is_ pretty unstable."

"Yeah. We've been doing a little snooping," Luke smiled.

"How?" Lily asked again. "You know what, nevermind," she waved her hand at the twins. "I don't wanna know what you two have been up to. You're going to get yourselves locked up. I forbid you to go back to that hospital." She took a sip of her orange juice and moved to sit it on the counter in front of the twins.

"Mom…Mother, come on. Don't you find it interesting?" Luke demanded.

Lily ran her fingers across her lips, wiping away the sticky orange juice as she thought hard.

"So this is what you boys do while I am busy at work?" she murmured.

"What was he like?" Luke questioned.

"Dr. Lecter? He was polite and knowledgeable. He seems like a gentleman."

"Did he flirt with you?"

"Luke!" Lily laughed and shook her head. "He was nice."

"Come on mother, I know better. You flirted with him didn't you? Why would you even bring him up to us if you weren't attracted to him?" Luke continued, and Mark smiled beside him.

"I only spoke with him for a little while," Lily said defensively. I was just thinking that it would be interesting to pick a psychiatrist's brain."

Luke and Mark smiled at her words.

"But he did buy one of my paintings," Lily smiled. "I was rather surprised. It was my pricier one."

"Ohhhh. A coincidence that he would buy your painting after you talked to him?" Mark said quickly. "You've already hooked him," Luke laughed giddily.

Lily smiled. "You know, I'm finding him a lot more interesting than I first thought. He spoke with the infamous Chesapeake Ripper on a regular basis."

"Or he _is the_ Chesapeake Ripper… as Graham says," Luke added.

Lily rolled her lips together, tasting the lingering flavor of the juice.

"You should talk to him some more," Luke suggested. "Talk to him. Get to know him better."

"I'll probably never see him again," Lily murmured. "I had plans to go back to New York in a few weeks."

"You could deliver the painting to him," Mark piped up. "At his house."

"Hmm," Lily hummed out loud. "Maybe I will."

"And let me come too," Luke said excitedly.

"No," Lily snapped immediately. She walked around the countertop and stopped beside the boys.

"Will one of you catch the zipper?" she motioned toward the back of her red dress.

Luke immediately moved to follow her order.  
"Will you at least fill us in?" he turned his head to say the words in her ear.

"If you promise me that you will not return to that horrendous hospital. That goes for the both of you," Lily responded, reaching up to catch the front of her dress before it could slip off her shoulders.

* * *

Hannibal unbuttoned the button on his suit coat as he eased into his padded desk chair. His now empty office still held the smell of butterscotch. His last patient, Dennis Cothren, snacked on the hard candies throughout the entirety of their meetings every week. Eating them was like a bad habit. As soon as Dennis began to search for words, his clammy hands would find their way to his pockets where they would whip out a hard, golden, and sweet drop wrapped in clear plastic.

Hannibal reached over and picked up his ipad. He had forgotten that he had left it out. Normally, he would not leave anything of value lying around while a patient was in, but Dennis was nonthreatening—incredibly, boringly nonthreatening.

He knew that when he turned it on, the ipad would still be on the search engine that he had been using to look up Lily Gray as he waited for his morning and only appointment of the day. He'd been thinking about her on and off ever since she had spoken to him the night before. From what he could tell about her, she was incredibly successful, familiar with most if not all of the important political members of Baltimore and other cities as well as influential people from around the world. She had money and means to do whatever she wanted, but she had not seemed rude in the slightest. Hannibal laid the ipad in his top drawer and closed it. He glanced to his watch. It was still early. Just a little after ten in the morning. Dennis always liked early appointments, and his appointments never lasted long.

Hannibal gently closed the notebook that held all of the notes and information that he had written about Dennis. The man suffered from an anxiety disorder that bordered on a normalcy that Hannibal had seen more times than he felt like recounting. The man left Hannibal feeling quite bored. He frowned down at the closed book. If anything, Dennis was at least polite—although Hannibal could not say the same for the man's wife. No, Kim Cothren seemed to be the cause of most, if not all of Dennis's anxiety episodes. Hannibal felt his lips curl into a slight smile. He remembered when Kim had stormed into his waiting room weeks earlier, demanding to see Dennis. She had her brown, highlighted hair in loose curls, and a few expensive looking pieces of jewelry. The dark blue dress she had worn stood out against her pale skin attractively, but the neckline had been cut inappropriately low and the dress was fairly short. Dennis had left minutes before Kim arrived. Hannibal had calmly explained this to her, but she raised her voice, complaining that her credit card was not working and she needed to speak to her husband.

She even had the nerve to say that his therapy was too expensive and that Dennis did not even need therapy any longer. Kim was much younger than Dennis, and the nagging suspicion that she had married him for his money was eventually proven true in his mind. Hannibal flipped the book back open and read through the man's information.

_Dennis Cothren,(45) works as a software developer. He is married to Kim Cothren, (23), a homemaker._

Hannibal read on through the basic information that Dennis had given him—even their home address. He mentally recalled the fact that Dennis went straight to work after his appointment. Kim Cothren was probably at home…or shopping. Hannibal knew that he had to be careful. Jack's BAU was finished investigating him, but that did not mean that he was off of their radar. The Chesapeake Ripper couldn't necessarily show back up while Will was in jail….or could it?


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of action. I promise it is building. Thanks for anyone that is reading. I would definitely appreciate any reviews or thoughts if anyone is reading._

Hannibal reached over and clicked off his CD player. He craned his neck as he listened. Yes, he had heard correctly. He removed his finger from the pause button as the doorbell dinged again. Hannibal dried his hands on a towel before removing his still snow white apron. This minor distraction had been the only one he'd had all day—well the only thing he hadn't planned. Boring Dennis Cothren had not offered him enough distraction during his appointment that morning, but his rude wife, Kim, had. The highlight of his day had been Kim, and the meal that he knew he would make for dinner, but even that did not raise his spirits. After he returned from the museum the night before when he'd met Lily Gray, he'd visited Bedelia's home to find that she was really gone. It was as if she had vanished completely and all of the talks that they had had never happened. Placing his clean plastic suit back into its place felt oddly unsatisfying. Not knowing where she had gone was unsatisfying, even though the respect was still there. She knew, but she did not tell. She also knew what she had to do. He was _dangerous_, after all. Her words had gone through his head a thousand times just today. Now, the familiar loneliness crept in. He acted as if it didn't bother him, and he told himself that it didn't, but when alone for a while, he felt as if he needed a break from his own mind.

Glancing briefly over his almost finished plating, Hannibal turned and headed for the door, confused at who would be dropping by uninvited on a Friday night. Jack always called before coming over so Hannibal mentally checked him out of his mind. But then again….he made himself think back to Jack. If it was urgent, Jack may not call. Will was no longer a regular guest and neither was Bedelia. Hannibal wondered if perhaps Alana was dropping by to talk about Will. She sometimes did. Hannibal stopped to peek through the peep hole, and paused at the sight of Lily Gray. She looked up to the darkening sky and then back down to the package in her hands. The painting, he quickly remembered. Lily wore a dark pea coat and her blonde curls were pulled out from underneath the collar to lie on top of it. Hannibal cleared his throat, straightened the collar of his white shirt and opened the door.

"Ms. Gray," Hannibal tried to hide the surprise in his voice, but he was indeed taken back that she had shown up on his doorstep.

"Hello. Come in, Let me," he reached for the large flat package that she held in front of her, but she shook her head.

"Hi, No it's okay, Doctor, I've got it."

Unlike his normal cool self, he awkwardly moved away from the doorway to allow her to pass. The surprise was still lingering on him, and the fact that he allowed himself to be caught so off guard affected him more than usual. He had not even considered that she would deliver the painting herself.

"Please call me Lily. Now where shall I put this?" She tilted her head to slide a few curls out of her eyes.

"Please just right here is perfectly fine. I will find the proper place to put it," Hannibal took it from her gloved hands and propped it against the wall.

"Do you always personally deliver?" He asked, motioning toward the wrapped painting as he moved forward to shut the door behind her.

A cold chill lingered in the room even after the door was shut.

"Only for extremely special pieces," she smiled. "I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no. Indeed. Special it is," he answered, quickly smiling back at her.

"When I saw that you had bought one of my pieces, I couldn't help myself. I enjoy hand delivering my pieces. I like to see where they end up," as she spoke, she slipped her gloved hand in her pea coat pocket and removed a slip of paper.

"Here you go. The boys' and girls' clubs of Baltimore and I thank you for your donation," she smiled her sweet smile as she held the paper out to him.

Hannibal took the receipt with his address from her.

"Well thank you very much. I appreciate it," he scanned over the paper he had written his address on before tucking it into the front pocket of his trousers and glancing back to her.

He noticed a few rain droplets on the material of her coat and a few droplets that had fallen in her blonde curls. Her cheeks were a little flushed, from the cold he assumed because her makeup was not done extravagantly.

"You're very welcome. You have a beeeautiful home," she turned away from him to look at the walls of the entryway. He could smell her perfume. It was just a light smell, though, due to the slight distance between them.

Hannibal looked around, following the path that her eyes took.

"Thank you. Well. I was not expecting company, "he motioned toward his white button down shirt and the khakis he wore. " But-"

"Oh yes. Uh I was just dropping this off. I have a few mores stops to make," she interrupted him, waving her hand awkwardly as if she was embarrassed as she talked.

Hannibal found himself actually smiling at her own embarrassment. A pleasance seemed to radiate from her physique.

"You don't have to rush off," he said quickly.

Even just with the silences that filled the voids in between their sentences, he could feel the loneliness of the empty house. Hannibal always prepared extra food, and he had a feeling that he would not regret her company. He'd enjoyed speaking to her the night before. In fact, he was interested in speaking to her in detail again.

Smiling, she shook her head and took a step backwards toward the door.  
"I got a little carried away with my preparation of dinner and I believe I cooked too much," Hannibal continued. "If you would like to stay and dine, I have an extra seat at my table tonight."

Lily smiled at his offer. "How very nice of you, doctor…But I...I hate to impose."

"It would not be an imposition."

Lily smiled back at him.

She stopped for a moment as if contemplating so Hannibal held out his elbow. "Just Hannibal, no doctor" he corrected her. "And come. I insist. I'll show you to the table and then I'll get freshened up."

"Oh," Lily paused again, pressing her teeth into her bottom lip.

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she finally slipped her hand gently into his outstretched arm.

Hannibal inhaled her scent. He could smell the scent of the dry leaves outside, but her perfume was the strongest scent on her.

"Well okay… but don't go change on my account." She reached up to tousle her damp blonde hair with her free hand. "I wasn't expecting to stay for longer than a moment. I didn't exactly come prepared for dinner either."

"Would you like me to take your coat?" Hannibal paused a moment when he felt the slight moisture on her coat sleeve.

The smell of the rain was also a smell that had leaked in through the open door. He looked back to her and released her arm from his when she nodded in agreement. He took a step back as she slipped her gloves off and unbuttoned her black coat. Beneath it, she wore a navy one shouldered dress. It ended an inch or two above her knees, respectful, but flattering on her figure.

She was impeccably dressed, just as Hannibal assumed she would be.

"Thank you," she said as he took the coat and hung it on a rack not far from the door.

"My pleasure," He turned back to her with a slight smile, and held his arm out again.

She slipped her hand through gently.

"I have to ask that you just excuse any mess," Hannibal said as he began to lead her toward his dining room.

"Oh what mess?" Lily responded with a laugh.

Her hand felt light against his arm. She was like a feather, allowing him to whisk her to the table. He led her it and pulled a chair out for her.

"Sit and I will be back in a moment," he motioned toward the chair and watched as she eased herself in it. She crossed her legs and then nodded back to him.

"Take as long as you need."

* * *

"Veal Ossobuco," Hannibal placed the dish in front of her. "With Risotto Milanese."

He stepped away as Lily eyed the dish he had perfected.

"Oh my, this is beautiful, Hannibal. I feel as though I'm actually in Italy. It's actually almost too beautiful to eat."

"I appreciate your kind words," Hannibal murmured.

"Are you a chef as well as a psychiatrist?"

Hannibal smiled as he walked to place his plate in front of his own seat. He sat it down and then picked up the wine bottle. He strolled back over to her and gently poured the wine in her waiting wine glass.

"Ah Amarone," she said softly. "The perfect pairing to Osso Buco."

"Enjoy," Hannibal said. He stepped back behind her chair to pass by, but stopped for a brief moment. He leaned in slightly, breathing in the scent of her perfume again- like it was a habit. He closed his eyes, memorizing the scent, but he only lingered for a brief moment. Before Lily even noticed he had stopped behind her, he was moving again, making his way back to his own seat across from her.

Hannibal pretended to be occupied with his napkin, but he watched her gingerly pick up her fork and begin eating. He took a sip of wine as he watched her chew.

"Ooommm, This tastes like it literally came out of a kitchen in Italy. This is delicious. Where do you get your veal?"

Hannibal glanced up, savoring the taste of wine from his lips before answering.

"One of my acquaintances supplied this," he placed his wine glass down gently.

"It's always nice to have a network of acquaintances," Lily responded with a smile. She laughed slightly at his ambiguity, but did not ask any more questions.

Hannibal watched her gently cut into her meat and fork it up. She placed it in her mouth gingerly and his own mouth watered as he watched her. Lily moved with an elegant sureness.

Hannibal smiled and nodded. "Yes, I meet many new people through my work, as you do too I'm sure."

He slipped his own fork into his mouth and chewed his bite slowly. It was just the right texture and juicy—not dried out.

"I appreciate you bringing the painting by so quickly," he spoke after he swallowed.

"Ah you're very welcome. I appreciate that you bought it," Lily dabbed her napkin over her mouth.

Hannibal dabbed his mouth with his own napkin. "I wanted to ask you, what inspired you to paint it?" He asked as he lowered the napkin back to its place.

Lily glanced up from her plate and smiled. Her cheeks gained a little color.

"That is an interesting question," she responded with a laugh. "I don't really know. Inspiration is an odd yet amazing thing. I never know when I will get it. I actually painted that one here in Baltimore at my little apartment. I usually paint in my studio or back at my home in New York….I had paint and canvases strewn across my sitting room. The painting that you bought was the result of a lonely night in Baltimore."

Hannibal smiled back at her and nodded. He imagined the image that she described. He didn't imagine her as the stereotypical painter slinging paint with an spattered apron or crazy music blaring. No, she was too controlled, too put together. But he did find it hard to imagine her having a lonely night. The well-known Lily Gray found herself lonely while in Baltimore?

"You said that you enjoy drawing? What inspires you to draw, Hannibal?"

"I just like to draw what I see."

Lily smiled warmly.

"And what I remember," Hannibal finished his sentence and looked back to his plate.

"So…You're practice is nearby, isn't it?" Lily asked.

Hannibal glanced back up to her. "Yes. It is. I'm fortunate that I was able to find a wonderful location here in Baltimore. It is a lovely city. I studied here at Johns Hopkins so I did not have to make a big move. I just settled here. My drawings actually earned me an internship there."

"Wow. That is amazing. I bet that you stay quite busy now."

"I bet that you do as well," he responded.

"Yes. Usually. I can't just sit around," she gently scraped risotto off of her fork with her lips. "God, it's been a while since I have had an excellent risotto. This is wonderful."

"Thank you," Hannibal took another sip of his wine. He watched her eyes wander around the dining room for a few moments. She focused on the painting above his fireplace and then smiled.

"Oh, Leda and the Swan. Interesting dining room décor."

Hannibal smiled at her words. He looked at the painting for a moment before allowing his eyes to roam towards an empty spot not far down the wall.

"I was actually planning on putting your painting right there," he explained.

Lily laughed. "I don't see how mine can stand up against that one."

"It does," Hannibal murmured. "Yours spoke to me."

The both of them fell silent and allowed the silence to take over for a few minutes. The only sounds came from the clink of their forks and knives. Hannibal watched her out of the corner of his eye. The silence was not awkward. Her company was pleasant even if she was not speaking. He watched her consume his meal, unknowing just what she was consuming.

"Have you ever had dealings with Haphephobia? I don't mean to be a downer, but I don't have many opportunities to pick a psychiatrist's brain," Lily finally spoke, breaking the silence around them.

Hannibal raised his eyes at her wording. "The fear of being touched?" He stared back at her as he thought.

She nodded.

"I cannot say that I have actually treated a patient that has had Haphephobia. It is actually quite rare. I vaguely remember that one of my colleagues attempted to treat someone that suffered from it."

"Attempted? Oh yes...well," she paused before finishing. "I just thought that I would ask. One of my sons suffers from it, but he is lenient about going to therapy. Don't worry about it I was just curious."

"It is not something that I am completely opposed to doing—seeing someone with that disorder I would never turn away a patient until I had a full understanding of what he suffers from or if he was dangerous," he responded as he placed his fork and knife across his plate.

"Oh yes. I understand that. I…um I hope that you know I was not insinuating anything. Do you know of anyone who offers the kind of therapy that he would need?" She took a sip of her wine.

Hannibal licked the taste of wine off his own lips.

"If your son would be willing to meet with me, I could at least try to gain a better understanding. We could go from there. Has he been officially diagnosed?"

"No, he hasn't, but I'm absolutely sure that that is what he suffers from. I didn't mean to be a bother; I just wish that I could help him."

"Oh not at all. I understand completely. A disorder like Haphephobia can be difficult to deal with for the victim but also for the family surrounding him," Hannibal glanced back down to his own plate as he reached for his fork and knife again.

"Yes. Especially when not many people understand what it's like," Lily responded.

"How severe is it?" Hannibal asked carefully.

"He can sometimes work through it, but it is painful for him. If he initiates the touch, he is sometimes okay. He is with me anyway."

"What does he do if he is touched by someone he does not trust, or if he is touched and it is a surprise to him?"  
"Well…He panics of course. He flinches away and sometimes shakes…He sometimes yells and erupts in uncontrollable anger."

Hannibal nodded. "Might I suggest, if it is that extreme, I would say do not put him through a great deal of physical therapy. It does not always have the presumed effect. Usually the mental therapy helps the victim to understand the disorder itself and what could have caused it. It addresses problems that were never addressed in childhood, or whatever underlying issues he may have…not that he has many underlying issues," Hannibal corrected his wording.

Lily nodded. "But It doesn't always deal with abuse does it? I mean how often does it occur in children who were not abused?"

"No, not at all. Disorders are individualistic. They can occur seemingly without reason. I can recall a few patients throughout the years who suffered from differing disorders, but they were disorders that are sometimes attributed to abuse. Some of these patients had not been abused, yet they suffered from the particular disorder anyway."

Hannibal twisted the base of his wine glass on the table.

"I like to think that Mark and his twin brother Luke had a nice childhood. I adopted them immediately after they were born. Their mother died in childbirth."

"Ah How many children do you have?"

"They're all adopted, but I have six," Lily dabbed her mouth with her napkin after she spoke.

"That is a great deal to take on," Hannibal cleared his throat. "Especially for someone single."

"I was an orphan so I...," Lily paused as she refolded her napkin on the table. "I…just know what it feels like."

Hannibal sensed her change in demeanor. He paused, fork in hand. "I was as well. I was taken in by my Aunt and Uncle when I was just a boy. I grew up with them in France."

Lily met his eyes. A new interest seemed to sparkle across her usually composed face.

"At least you were adopted by family. That's very nice," She paused, and Hannibal felt that she wanted to continue. He remained quiet, waiting to see if she would elaborate on her own past. He ignored the want to ask. He sometimes had to remind himself that every conversation was not a therapy session.

"The man who adopted me…he provided me with the material things I needed," she added. "But I can't say that my childhood was picture perfect. Even before him, when I was very little…my mother and father…Oh I'm being a downer again," she smiled it off and reached for her wine glass. "I just wish that someone would have paid more attention to me and loved me- protected me. That's what I want for my children. No one understood me. I want them to be understood."

Hannibal stared at her for a few moments, studying the emotion that seemed to course across her face. She made him think back to his own childhood.

"How very thoughtful," Hannibal said softly. "It is unfortunate for a child to become an orphan."

"I let them be themselves. The children that I've taken in would not be a prospective family's first choice. But I accept them for who they are." Lily dabbed her mouth with her napkin. She allowed her eyes to drift around the room, and Hannibal watched her.

"I wasn't exactly a child that a prospective family would have wanted either," she said softly and met his eyes again. "Martin took me in because he felt guilty."

Hannibal lowered his eyes to his own plate. Lily's life did not seem as impeccable as it once had.

"But, enough of that…" she said quickly.

"I would love to meet your son," Hannibal added. "I usually prefer to keep my patients at a distance, though."

"I understand…I uh…heard about that man…the Chesapeake Ripper."

Hannibal cocked his head in surprise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up…I just."

"Oh no, it's quite alright," Hannibal cleared his throat. He was shocked that she would bring him up.

"Will Graham will soon have his time in court, and we will have to see how that pans out for him."

"It's awful," Lily added softly. "It makes me wonder what made him…a killer. What makes anyone one? A lot of times it Is attributed to their childhood isn't it?"

Hannibal nodded. "Sometimes it could be."

"Like an orphan?" Lily questioned. "I went through a lot, but I did not turn into a Will Graham…and neither did you."

"Will Graham has not confessed," Hannibal murmured.

"That is true. I'm sorry that I brought him up. I shouldn't have."

Hannibal watched Lily carefully. Somehow, he could not tell if her words were completely innocent or not.

"No, it's okay," Hannibal laid his fork down. "I have learned from that I should not tie myself to my patients emotionally. I cannot always save them from themselves. May I ask how you knew that I was his psychiatrist? I don't remember reading it from anywhere."

"Oh, well…I must have read it somewhere," Lily murmured. She licked her lips. "Maybe on TattleCrime. Will Graham is definitely Freddie Lounds's new favorite subject."

Hannibal nodded and made a mental note. He needed to go back and see where he was mentioned. He hadn't remembered seeing anything written about him by Freddie Lounds.

As the two finished eating, they chatted a little more, but Hannibal did not learn anything new about Lily. Much to his disappointment, she kept their topics seemingly basic until she finished eating.

"I thoroughly enjoyed this, Hannibal. Thank you so much.," she finally said.

"You're very welcome. I enjoyed your company."

Lily smiled and pulled her napkin from her lap to place it beside her dish.

"I enjoyed your company as well. As much as I enjoy going to art directors' dinners, sometimes it is nice to do something different. We should make a toast,"

"Aren't toasts usually made at the beginning of a meal?" Hannibal asked.

"Yes," Lily laughed. "But I didn't think of it then."

"A toast," She raised her nearly empty glass.

He raised his too.

"A toast to new friends."

Hannibal clinked his glass to hers gently. He watched her laugh and then brush a few curls back behind her ear. Was there something more to Lily Gray- past the seemingly innocent and polite part of her?

"Excuse me but may I use your restroom?"

"Yes. It is the last room down the hall," Hannibal started to get up from his seat but she stopped him.

"I can find it. Thank you again."

He settled back into his seat, watching as she disappeared into the nearly dark hallway. When he told her that he enjoyed her company, he had not been lying. He was intrigued a little more now, though. Lily was very poised and polite, yet she seemed to understand things in life that many others did not. She reminded him a bit of Bedelia. Perhaps it was because his relationship with the other woman had just ended, but Hannibal could not help but compare having conversation with Lily to having conversation with Bedelia.

He looked to her plate. Lily had not cleaned it totally, but she had eaten nearly all of the main course. He smiled at his nearly empty plate as well. Dennis Cothren was free now. Hannibal wondered if he should cancel the man's appointment for the coming week though. Of course the man would grieve the disappearance of his wife, but he would most likely come back more interesting than before.

"Do you need help washing dishes?"

Hannibal glanced up at Lily Gray. She was wringing her hands together softly as she made her way back to his table.

"Oh no, not at all. You were the guest. Guests do not wash dishes," Hannibal rose from his seat and pushed it under the table.

"Well thank you so much, Hannibal. It's getting rather late. I better be getting back to my apartment."

Hannibal nodded.

"I will walk you out," He waved his hand toward the doorway and she followed his lead.

"If you ever need any help finding a particular art piece, or if you need something to fill a spot on your wall, you know who to call," she said as they entered the entryway.

"I will do so,"Hannibal pulled her coat from the rack and handed it back to her gently.

She slipped it on and pulled her hair out from underneath it.

Hannibal watched as Lily reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a card. She held it out to him.

"Don't hesitate to call, really."

Hannibal took it from her and scanned the font on it quickly.

"Would you like to set up at appointment for your son?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh yes…Well I better talk with Mark first, but I would love too. I can give you a call."

"I will give you my card as well," Hannibal opened the drawer of a small table.

"Here," Hannibal gave her his business card and she smiled as she read it.

"Thank you."

Hannibal reached out and opened the wooden door.

"Have a nice night, Hannibal," she said as she stepped outside.

"Goodbye Lily." He breathed her scent in again as she passed him. He then watched her gently descend down his steps. Her heels clicked on the concrete. She turned and waved once more, and he waved back before shutting the door.

Hannibal stopped before exiting his entryway. The evening had proved to be interesting. He slowly walked back toward his dining room, inhaling the lingering scent of her perfume as he did.

He stared momentarily at the table and then moved toward the hallway.

He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent again as he headed down the hallway, following the path that she had taken to his restroom. He could tell where she stopped. There, the scent was much more pronounced. She wore the same sweet, perfume, like a refreshing mixture of citrus and flowers. In front of a Monet, he paused where he knew that she did. He imagined her staring at the oil painting for a few moments before moving on. The first floor half bath was a few meters away but instead of continuing toward it, Hannibal followed her scent right to his right and into his barely used home office. A strange unsettling feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. What had she been doing?

He clenched his jaws as he flicked on the light. Yes, she had been in his office. Right away, on his desk, he noticed the disorder in the papers he'd left there. Luckily by now, he only left some of his drawings laid out on the desk. Even in the file cabinets one would only find old patient information case files and contact information that he did not have room for at his practice. He crossed the moonlit floor in quick stride, passing by the large window with curtains drawn back. He reached out and scooped up a small notepad that sat atop his drawings. It was one of the few notepads that he had not taken to his other office yet. His practice's address and his name were formatted at the top, but a neat script type writing was written in the middle of the first piece of paper.

_Beautiful charcoal pieces, Hannibal. May I commission you to fill a spot in my Soho art gallery in New York?_

_Much love and Thanks Again for the remarkable dinner, _

_Lily G._

Hannibal rubbed the corner edge of the paper between his thumb and forefinger as he studied the black ink written on his notepad with one of his own ballpoint pens. Her writing was neat, purposeful and to the point. He stood for a long time, staring at the note and then glancing around the room, imagining what her reasoning for entering the office could have been. What was she looking for? Or had she been looking for anything in particular at all? Finally, Hannibal laid the small notepad back down on top of the drawing of his boarding school and walked back to the door, pausing once again to look back. He raised his hand to flick off the light. Once off, the moonlight illuminated the room, shining directly atop the drawings on his desk. Had she simply been going to the bathroom when she'd seen them? He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more interesting about Lily Gray that he had not yet figured out.


End file.
